


Certain As The Sun

by maroukado



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, M/M, Pining, fairy tale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-22 23:31:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6097513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maroukado/pseuds/maroukado
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“I know it took me a long time to see it, even </i>think<i> about accepting it, but,” Jace pointed upstairs, “he loves you and you most definitely love him.  Why are we still cursed?”</i></p><p>A Malec Beauty and the Beast AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everybody. Here's my first ever Malec au fic, which of course went in a completely different direction than what I wanted. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, there was a boy.

A beautiful boy.

There was no vanity to the boy's beauty, but there was softness to his heart and he protected that heart with jagged and sharp words.

On a warm, quiet day in the woods, some of those words cut a woman. An enchantress. This enchantress was kind, but her kindness was locked in a burning struggle with her prideful pettiness, and she punished the beautiful boy for his ugly words.

_My actions will be either a curse or a reward_ , she told the boy, _it will depend on your choices. You shield yourself with hurtful barbs, your outsides shall reflect it_.

The boy screamed in pain, fell to his knees on the leaf littered forest floor; his soft, vulnerable skin drying, hardening, turning grey. Sharp thorns pushed through the hardened skin of his face, his hands, his heart.

The enchantress continued, _You shall be deprived of human contact; your household will be transformed._

The boy began to cry.

The woman knelt beside him and raised a gentle hand to his thorn covered cheek. Small lines of blood trickled down her wrist to the cool damp leaves below.

_I shall give you five years_ , she spoke kindly. _You shall show your heart's truth. If you accept love, you will be as you were before. If not, you remain in this form. Whatever truth is in your heart on the eve of your twenty-third birthday shall become permanent._ She lifted his chin, lovingly stroked his hair. _I do so hope you will not remain lost, little one. A soul unable to accept they are truly loved is too tragic a curse to bear._

The enchantress disappeared.

The boy sobbed.

Our story begins.

*

“He's in a _mood_ ,” Simon said, his lid bouncing every step down the stairs.

“Maybe it's because you were half an hour late this morning,” Jace replied from his spot on the rug below, his hands pointing to his face which showed it was half past eight in the morning.

Tea spilled from Simon's spout as he jumped the last step. “Damn it. Hodge! Get your fluffy ass to the bottom of the stairs sometime today so his highness doesn't slip and die and I'm stuck with Royal Doulton stamped to my ass for all eternity!”

“I think you need a break,” Jace said, a playful look in his glass covered eyes. “I've heard a cup of tea can be effective for relaxation.”

Simon thrust his spout at Jace, and at the lounging Magnus beside him. “Not everybody can be as useless as the two of you, you know. Some of us have purpose and responsibilities and--”

“And drips pouring out of our spouts. Maureen is going to be furious, she only polished the floor an hour ago,” Jace finished.

“Stupid clock,” Simon muttered, however he gingerly made his way to the kitchen at the threat of Maureen's wrath.

Magnus rolled onto his side, propping himself up on one candle. “It's not like the teapot doesn't have a point. Why must you taunt him so early in the morning?”

“Because it's fun. Because I'm bored. Because Alec...” Jace shuffled to face Magnus, his pendulum swaying with the movement, “Alec _has_ been in a mood lately.”

Magnus stretched out a candle, lighting and extinguishing it in a relaxing pulse of heat and orange glow. There had been a time, almost five years ago, when Magnus would have been certain he understood the graceful workings of Alec's heart, of his own. But the stark evidence of an ever present curse had eroded that certainty.

“Maybe he tore a shirt again,” Magnus replied lightly, focused on the crackle of the flame. “Our Isabelle can be very unforgiving when he's not careful with those thorns.”

Jace's clock hands spun to nine and four – his disbelief face. “I know it took me a long time to see it, even _think_ about accepting it, but,” Jace pointed upstairs, “he loves you and you most definitely love him. Why are we still cursed?”

The flame grew larger, brighter, hotter. The slow slide of melting wax was a soothing counter to sharp pain in Magnus' heart. “Strong proof your assumptions are wildly incorrect, isn't it?”

“I'm not wrong,” Jace said fiercely.

“And yet you still chime on the hour.” Magnus hopped up and leisurely made his way out of the room, ever thankful that the solid wood of Jace's base made him too slow to chase after anybody.

Jace's voice followed him instead. “I'm not wrong!”

*

The day of the curse had been a hopeful day for Magnus.

He woke up, heart both heavy and weightless in its certainty that Magnus Bane intensely and irrevocably loved Alec Lightwood.

It was a love that was miraculous in its very existence. Magnus had truly believed himself cut off from letting another into his heart; the last experience had torn his soul. But Alec's small smiles, his kind heart, his perfect imperfectness were the stitches that sewed up that which Magnus thought was beyond repair.

Magnus _loved_.

He had made his way to Lightwood Castle to confess his love – and then he was a candlestick. Which, truthfully, had been a minor shock. However, Alec returned and Magnus' heart swelled at the sight of him. His stone grey skin, the sharp brown thorns, the calming firm stance as he informed the household of his curse were a breathtaking sight to behold.

Magnus _loved_.

But then the words being spoken by Alec's smooth but hardened lips filtered through. _Loved by another_.

If Alec was loved by another, the curse would be broken.

Magnus _loved_. But he'd been mistaken. He _had_ been changed by his past.

Changed beyond repair.

His love must be a broken thing. It could not touch Alec's heart. It could not cure a curse. It could only be carried in Magnus' ugly heart, a danger to nobody but himself.

Magnus _loved_. Magnus loved fiercely, devotedly, eternally.

Magnus _loved._ But his love was a beast.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“It's about time one of you came up here. Pass me those pants,” Isabelle ordered as Magnus entered Alec's room.

“Apologies, sweetie. It's been quite a morning.”

Magnus gently folded the dark green pants discarded on the floor, running his candles over the tiny holes and rips dotting the pockets. He carefully didn't mention he'd spent an hour obsessing over Jace's words in the musty corner of the study.

Isabelle was a prisoner more than any other in the castle, transformed into a seven foot cupboard in a room with a six foot door. Magnus made a conscious attempt to be less miserable around her. She didn't always play along.

“Isn't it always,” Isabelle sighed, opening her bottom drawer. Magnus clumsily put the pants in. “I heard hunting dogs on the grounds this morning but, of course, Alec says I shouldn't worry.”

Magnus jumped onto the end of Alec's bed, sinking into the soft, cream quilt. “It's been years and we've never had a problem with intruders. Why should anybody come now?”

“Because it's been years and we've never had a problem with intruders,” she parroted back. “It's probably about time.”

He couldn't fault her logic. The first six months of the curse had been one of high-grade anxiety, thoughts of the castle being invaded while most of the household was defenceless. That fear was now a low hum in the background of their days, constant, and something Magnus was eager to ignore.

“What are you going to do the first day you're back to normal?” he asked.

Isabelle slammed her drawer shut, glaring. “We really could be in danger.” They stared at each other until Isabelle's timber stopped creaking. “Fine. I guess I just want to run. Through the woods, down the roads, anywhere. Just run. Outside.”

Magnus hummed.

Scatters of sunlight waltzed familiarly against the dark mahogany of Isabelle's side. “You're quiet this morning,” she mused. “Is it anything to do with my brother's charming mood?”

Magnus stroked the wick on top of his head, lazily replying, “No. Just one of those days my head's being too loud. What's going on with Alec?”

Isabelle swung one of her doors open and shut. “No clue. Trust me, I tried. He's being quiet.”

“Our Alexander isn't usually one for unnecessary words, though. Maybe he's got nothing to say.”

“Not quiet quiet. _Quiet_. Like _that_ morning quiet,” Isabelle said softly.

_That_ morning.

Magnus sighed.

The morning in question was the first morning after the curse fell upon them. Alec and Max sleeping in Alec's room, keeping their sister company. Max, the youngest Lightwood sibling, transformed into a small white china teacup, but handling it with enthusiasm and optimism, promising his older siblings that everything would be okay.

However, as Isabelle told it, Max woke up crying in the early hours of the morning, unbidden nightmares chasing him out of sleep. Alec's first instinct had been to reach down and hug his brother to him. One touch of a stone fingertip, with a little too much pressure, broke a chip away from the top of the little teacup.

Despite Max's protests that he was okay, Alec had retreated, an untouchable stone statue in the corner of the library. No amount of words moved him. He sat for two days, then got up and acted as if nothing had happened.

Alec never came close to touching any one of them since.

There was confusion in the household over whether it was only Alec's touch that could damage them, nobody wanted to test it. But, along with the fear of intruders, there was the underlying worry about what would happen when they were human again. The worry about what part of Max would be missing.

Whatever had Alec _that_ morning quiet, Isabelle was right to worry about. Magnus crackled a short burst of flame out of one candle.

“I'll talk to him.”

“Sweet talk him a little. I know he likes that,” Isabelle teased.

“I'm afraid your brother has become immune to my charms.”

Isabelle studied him. Magnus always found that disconcerting. “What do _you_ want to do as soon as we're back to normal?”

Magnus dropped back onto the quilt. “I've always found normal to be vastly overrated,” he sighed.

*

Guilt.

Magnus' years in Lightwood Castle had been tinged with guilt, slowly creeping over him like parchment dipped in water.

_What do you want to do as soon as we're back to normal?_ was a common question among the members of the household. Part wish-fulfilment, part hope, part fear, the question became a touchstone of daily life.

Magnus' touchstone was guilt.

'Back to normal' held far too many heartbreaking realisations for him. Somebody _else's_ love will have touched Alec to end the curse, somebody else would be spending their lives with Alec, touching him, caring for him, giving him comfort. Magnus would no longer be allowed to be near Alec every day, there would be no reason.

The curse had been a gift for Magnus.

Even the guilt was comforting.

*

Quietly making his way into the musty library, he took in the stoop to Alec's shoulders hunched over a book, weary determination in his eyes. “I doubt stone can wrinkle, you should stop trying to test it, Alexander,” Magnus said.

“There are very few times I can follow what you're saying,” Alec confessed quietly, eyes never leaving the page.

“There are very few times I want you to.” Magnus hopped up on the desk beside Alec's hand, sparking three balls of orange flame to light the darkened library.

Alec continued to read. Magnus scanned over the words, it was an old tale of a cursed man visiting his beloved's dreams, whispering for permission to bed her. The flame in Magnus' left candle flared up bright white for a moment.

Alec's gaze flickered over to him. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

“On the awkward sexual fumblings of a couple long lying in their graves?”

“No,” Alec closed the book, “No, it's....I don't know.” He slumped down in the high-backed leather chair he often used for reading.

“What worrisome spark has invaded your thoughts today?”

“You've been talking to Izzy,” Alec said, leaning forward to drag another heavy book in front of him.

“Entertaining company _is_ few and far between in this castle. Isabelle never fails to disappoint.” Magnus did not miss the tightening of Alec's fist, the thorns that covered the top looking longer and more untouchable. “Alexander,” he added softly.

“Nothing's happening,” Alec replied.

“I know that not tru--”

“Not...That's not what I meant. This,” Alec gestured around the room, “curse. This _curse_. I have a duty to end it, but I'm failing.”

Magnus' flames dimmed at the faltering lilt in Alec's voice. “Having somebody fall in love with you, falling in love, can't be described as a _duty_.”

“It's unlike you to speak so untruthfully to me, Magnus. People I love continue to suffer because I cannot end...because of my own...” Alec trailed off, Magnus burning to know the end of that thought. Alec added, “Do you remember the ball, the one for Izzy's fifteenth birthday?”

Magnus remembered that ball. _That_ ball.

There were many reasons to remember it. It was the last ball held at Lightwood Castle, the ballroom long gathering dust after the tragic deaths of Alec's mother and father. It was the last ball Magnus saw a true smile from Isabelle, beaming, eyes sparkling, glowing in a deep red gown that had Simon spilling no less than three wine glasses throughout the night.

It was the ball Magnus had danced with Alec, the first and only time.

There had been countless balls before, Magnus asking Alec to dance, Alec giving him a sweet smile and declining. Magnus had promised himself he had learned his lesson.

But _that_ night.

The room was warm, a hundred people milling around on that summer evening, paired with the meandering fragrance of the yellow roses decorating the walls, had Magnus drunk with possibility.

Through the crowd, Magnus had spied the long, lean, confident back of Alec, impeccably clothed in black, charming a few of his parents', no doubt, strategic allies.

And Magnus was lost.

Countless nights after, his mind felt betrayed that the events that followed rolled like hazy dreams across his consciousness, the press of Alec's hand on his, the delicate violets pinned to Alec's breast pocket, the weight of Alec's fingers on his back, the shine of candlelight in Alec's eyes as they remained locked on Magnus' own.

_Alec_.

But the strings of violins faded, Alec became lost in the crowd, and the night danced away without them.

Magnus ached to know what had made Alec accept his request that night, but that required asking, and asking held a loaded meaning beyond that one dance. The question remained an itch in the corner of Magnus' mind.

“I suppose it's not something you'd remember, just another ball,” Alec's voice cut in quietly.

“No, that's--”

“I want to get a bit more reading done before lunch is ready.”

Alec's eyes were focused on the page in front of him, looking more stone than he ever had. It was through years of studious observation that Magnus knew Alec had tiny windows of time he would open himself up. Magnus' delay had closed that window for now.

Loving Alexander Lightwood from afar was an exercise in restraint and caution.

The dark silence of the library cut a shard of recklessness through his mind.

“The violets were quite lovely,” Magnus breathed softly. Alec's eyes met his, lips pressed firmly closed. Magnus turned. “I should go and amuse Jace before the kitchen staff rebel against his presence.”

Alec coughed. “I could, if you don't mind, use some extra light. Just for a little while.”

Magnus took in the small splinters of sunlight valiantly trying to cut through the heavy curtains pulled across the library windows, the stutter of stone tapping on wood.

Taking a deep bow, Magnus flared all three of his wicks. “If I can entreat _you_ to read aloud. It's so long since I've heard a story that didn't end with Jace punching an intoxicated villager in the face.”

Alec gave him a small smile.

Magnus kept it close to his heart.

The quiet tones of Alec's voice painting watercolors of lost loves, brave princes, heroic princesses, carried them off for the rest of the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter down, two more to go!!  
> My [tumblr](http://maroukado.tumblr.com).


	3. Chapter 3

“There's a girl! There's a girl in the castle!” Max yelled, skidding across the worn wood of the kitchen floor.

“Great, I'm gonna have a spout forever,” Simon muttered. Jace reached over and snatched off his lid. Simon poked him in the face with his spout.

“Guys, come on!” Max kept bouncing on the spot. .

Magnus hopped up and put a calming candle on Max's handle until he settled. "Lead the way, young Lightwood. It's unbecoming to be rude to a guest.”

“A guest implies an invitation of some sort,” Jace slid Simon's lid across the table before jumping to floor. “Stay in here, Max. Just until we know what's going on.”

“That's not fair! I saw her first!”

“I have to agree with the clock,” Magnus said, ignoring Max's protests. “We need to know she's not a threat and didn't bring anybody else with her.”

Max glared. “You can't make me.”

“Let's go ask Izzy then, and hear what she thinks,” Jace replied.

Max's eyes drifted up to the ceiling before meeting Jace's. “Fine. But, I'm not staying in here all day.”

“That's the spirit!” Magnus said, making his way out into the foyer. Beside him, Jace walked tensely, but purposeful, his clock hands pointing at nine and three. It would not do to give in to the nagging fear that this was the moment true danger had come to the castle, and Magnus found Jace's strong stance oddly comforting.

“Any sign of a threat, you take Max and run,” Jace said in a low, stern tone.

“You know, I never explicitly agreed to that plan.”

“Your fire is the best weapon to defend against any danger in the forest. Trust me, if I could shoot flames out of my hands, I'd be the first one to go.”

Magnus heard the lie lacing Jace's words; there was no conceivable scenario he would ever leave Alec and Isabelle to fight alone if danger was certain. Magnus didn't always like Jace, but he always had respected his loyalty.

“Plus,” Jace added, “if you stuck around, you'd only end up burning the whole castle down around us.”

“Your faith in me warms my waxy heart.”

Jace stopped, his pendulum keeping a steady beat. “It's Alec and Izzy's faith in you to protect what they love most. Don't let them down.”

Magnus was touched by the harsh words, giving a tiny nod of understanding, which Jace returned.

They reached the foyer to find Maureen and Hodge cautiously circling a girl, searing red hair a vibrant splash of color in the shadowed room.

“Why, if it isn't Clary Fray,” Magnus announced.

“I'm sorry, do I know you? A candle. I'm talking to a candle. And that's a clock,” Clary flustered, eyes darting around the room.

“You're in no danger,” Jace said slowly, taking a small step forward. “Maureen, Hodge. Give her a little room. Magnus, you know her?”

“Wait. Magnus. Magnus Bane?” Clary turned her full attention on him. “My mother told me to find you if—I can't believe you're here—there was trouble,” her eyes glistened, “There's trouble.”

Magnus moved towards her. 

“Get out,” Alec's tight, low voice came from the top of the stairs.

“Oh my,” Clary trailed off, taking a few steps back before stopping, standing as tall as she could. “I just need to talk with Magnus,” she finished, a line of steel tinging her voice.

“No you don't,” Alec never took his eyes off her as he walked down the stairs, “Get out.”

“Alec,” Jace and Magnus cautioned.

The room went still.

“Can you guys move closer? I can't hear,” Izzy's affronted voice called out.

Magnus made his way beside Alec's tense, foreboding form. “I don't think she's a danger. I know her mother, and if she's sent her daughter to me for help, that's what I'm going do. What I need to do.”

Alec tore his eyes from Clary, studying him for a few moments before flickering over to Jace.

“I agree with Magnus,” Jace responded to the silent question, “And you know how much that hurts me.”

Alec scanned the rest of the room. “Maureen, go fill in Izzy,” he ordered, “Hodge, keep Simon and Max in the kitchen. Magnus, Jace, with me. You,” he pointed to Clary and then to the study, “get in there.”

“Stop it. You're scaring the poor girl.” Magnus tapped Alec's leg lightly. Alec flinched and stepped back, quickly examining Magnus' candle. “It's fine,” Magnus said quietly.

Alec gave a rough nod.

“Let me _invite_ you into the study,” Jace said, leading a cautious Clary into the room, “Don't worry, we just need to hear your story. Alec's mainly all loud noises. You're safe.”

Alec gave a dissenting grunt, but joined Magnus in following along behind.

*

Almost five years ago, Magnus had waited for hours in the Lightwood's study. If asked, he could list every etching, light fitting and scratch on its walls.

The study was where Magnus sat waiting, fearful hope boiling in his heart that Alec would accept his confession of eternal love.

The study was where he had been when the curse fell.

The study was where he realized his love was not enough.

Magnus did not particularly like the study very much.

*

“I need to get her out,” Clary said.

“We have our own problems here, if you hadn't noticed,” Alec replied, carefully keeping his clenching fists away from the delicate fabric of the sofa.

“Alec,” Jace said gruffly.

“What? Excuse me if I don't feel too much sympathy for a witch being arrested. How do we even know she wasn't the one I met in the woods?”

“My mother wouldn't do something like that. She hadn't used magic in years! She was buying those ingredients for _protection_!”

Alec scoffed at Clary's words, silently standing to pace in front of the large, ornate fireplace. Magnus watched his graceful path for a few moments before turning to Clary. “Protection from your father, yes?” 

Clary nodded.

Eight years ago, Jocelyn Fray had arrived on his doorstep, a determined force of will, her daughter bundled up small beside her. It was known, in certain circles, that Magnus Bane was left a sizable inheritance, which he used to discreetly help people in need.

Jocelyn hadn't given him many details, a frightening husband, a frantic escape during the dead of night. Magnus had offered her the use of a cottage, long been abandoned, but tucked away far enough into the dense forest that would provide safety and shelter for one needing that kind of isolation.

She had gratefully accepted.

But now Clary's father had come to take back what he believed was his.

“Is Elias the one who arrested her?” Magnus feared what could have changed in the village in five years.

“Yes, he tried to take me too. I managed to run.”

Magnus sighed in relief.

Elias was a good friend, with a mother and sister who were skilled magic users. After the tragic incident of an accused young woman killed in her cell by an overzealous villager, Elias' mother had covertly placed a spell of protection around the building, replacing it every month under the cover of night. Anybody wishing to harm a person within would be struck down with sickness before they could enter.

The villagers assumed the building was a cursed place, a place magic users deserved to be held prisoner. It likely explained why Elias remained in power there, nobody else wanted the job.

“Your mother is safe there,” Magnus said, “Elias is an honorable and trustworthy man. I would dare say she may be safer than you.” Clary slumped back in the chair, shoulders loosening. “Nobody ever found guilty of witchcraft in the village has ever been harmed. A small performance of smoke and mirrors to sate the bloodlust of the crowd, that's all,” he finished lightly.

“That's not justice," Alec growled, ceasing his pacing. "Right or wrong, it's the law of the land. _Your_ Elias is subverting it.”

Magnus' wicks burned. “Stop it, Alexander,” he said lowly, forcefully.

The room fell silent except for the light grinding of Jace's cogs, the ticking of his pendulum.

“I'm not needed here, right? The two of you,” Alec pointed at Magnus and Jace, “have already decided. It doesn't matter if powerful witches are set free. It doesn't matter if this girl has led a dangerous madman to our door. Do whatever you want,” he finished, striding out the door. His footsteps heavy on the stairs, heavy in Magnus' heart, echoed through the room.

Clary's eyes darted between Jace and Magnus. “I can go. I don't want anybody else in danger.”

Magnus held up his candles. “Your mother sent you to me. I do not take that trust lightly.”

Jace hopped to the floor. “You are our guest,” he said to Clary, then to Magnus, “I'll go talk to him.”

Magnus nodded.

Having Alec angry at him was a surprisingly new and horrible occurrence.

Him being angry at Alec felt exceedingly worse.

*

The last day had been one of contrasts.

A nervous Clary being introduced to the rest of the household by a gracious Jace.

Alec and Jace not talking.

A hesitant Clary laughing with an excited Isabelle.

Alec walking past his room, not looking in.

Magnus and Clary discussing how to contact Elias, to know Clary's father's whereabouts.

Alec and Magnus not talking.

Magnus had left Clary, Isabelle and Simon relaxed and chatting in the drifting evening quiet, his head and heart too full of images of Alec's closed off eyes.

The Lightwood ballroom was the perfect place for him, for his mood. The feeling of emptiness, of disuse, was most present there, full of tickling ribbons of memory, of sparkling laughter and bubbling dances. Most of the household stayed away, the isolation of their situation made corporeal in this room of dreams. The tendrils of moonlight weaving around the room gave it a ghostly air.

Magnus welcomed it that night.

Standing in the center of the room, he closed his eyes and breathed. The strings of a waltz, the light touch of a hand at his back, the cloying scent of yellow roses. Those phantoms from a time long past were comforting in their permanence.

“I haven't been in here in years.”

Magnus kept his eyes closed as Alec's words cut through the air. The sound of slow footsteps stopped beside him, a rush of cool air as Alec sat down.

“It's two months,” Alec said softly.

Two months until the curse was permanent. Magnus knew that. The entire household knew that. The sheer effort everybody took in not talking about it could be exhausting.

Magnus opened his eyes. Alec was wearing the same clothes as the day before, the pockets of his dark pants shredded beyond repair. He was staring firmly at the floor as he added, “It _should_ be over.”

“Alexander,” Magnus began.

“No, I need to...Just...Maybe you...Why can't I...It _should_ be...” Alec trailed off.

Magnus moved in front of him. The words unsaid between them added weight to the night. He decided to lighten that darkness.

“You love me,” Magnus stated, certain in the truth of it.

Alec looked at him. “You love me,” he said, jagged and stumbling.

“Yes, I do,” Magnus replied simply.

A shard of moonlight lit the burning in Alec's eyes. “Then _why?_ Why can't I do this?”

Magnus turned away, moved closer to the long cold fireplace. “Your beautiful heart unfortunately fell in love with an ugly one, my love. Deep down, it knows mine is not enough.”

He stared at the fine, grey ashes in the grate. What once had provided warmth and comfort now laid dead and barren. 

“Stop it. Don't you dare,” Magnus reeled back around in surprise at the quick anger in Alec's words, “You, your heart, it's the most beautiful thing I know. It blinds me with its light, it blinds me _so much, Magnus_ , sometimes I have to hide.” He added quietly, “I think that's the problem.”

Magnus was buzzing, swirling in the pink hope that his heart might not be a broken thing, sorrowing in the grey despair of Alec's eyes.

“What is the problem?”

“Accepting that your heart could love me. I'm not...I have so many...”

Magnus moved closer, Alec's eyes wary in the movement. “Why did you dance with me that night?”

“Magnus...” Alec's eyes darted to the wall. “I don't know what words to say, _how to say_ , for things like this.”

“You were a master only moments ago, but let me help you now,” Magnus offered. “I asked you because there was no part of me that could bear the thought of _not_ asking. Even if you had turned me down again, I am helpless to that flame that burns in you. I will burn myself on it every time.”

Alec stared at him.

“Why did you ask me to dance?” Magnus asked.

Alec rubbed his hand over his knee. “My parents. They'd been pushing for me to be married. The morning of that ball, they'd given me a list of 'appropriate' matches that I was to talk to... All I could think about was you, not ever touching you, not ever feeling your hands on me. I was drowning in the pain of it...And then you asked...And I could breathe.”

The still night was cut with the sound of Alec's thumb tapping on his knee.

Watching him closely, Magnus carefully placed his right candle on Alec's wrist.

Alec flinched.

“Please,” Magnus whispered.

Alec went still.

Magnus slowly traced the hard lines etched into the stone of Alec's wrist, up to the thorns on the top of his hand. Alec's eyes carefully tracked the path of his candle.

“You _can_ be touched, Alexander. You can be _loved_.”

Alec hesitantly lifted his other hand, a light shaking finger running over Magnus' left candle, a broken breath echoing around the room.

“We have two months,” Magnus continued. “That's more than enough time to get you to see that.”

A tear dropped from Alec's eye, caught up in the thorns of his cheek.

“Guys! Now! We've got trouble!” Jace's frantic voice broke into their hidden world of confessions.

Alec pulled his hands away from Magnus and jumped up. “What is it?”

Jace rushed them out of the ballroom and into the foyer. Simon was already there, carefully peering out of the window, Clary beside him.

“It's definitely my father. Oh god, this is my fault,” she looked at Alec, “I'll go with him. You don't have to worry.”

Magnus hopped next to Simon. There was a middle aged man standing defiantly in front of the castle. He looked more terrifying than the group of almost thirty villagers behind him carrying flaming torches and weapons.

“That's not an option,” Alec said, ignoring the surprise in Clary's eyes to continue, “Simon, go fill in Izzy and find wherever Hodge and Maureen are. Jace, what weapons have we got for you and the others?”

“Knives mostly. Simon can attack them with boiling water. I'm thinking we can use our small size as an advantage in that crowd.”

Alec nodded. “Magnus.”

Magnus knew what was coming, but the desperate look in Alec's eyes still tore a weeping wound in his heart.

“Max is upstairs in his room,” Alec said, firmly and softly.

Magnus stood as tall as he could, a storming struggle to keep his flames from bursting out in white balls of heat.

“Alexander...”

Alec met his eyes. The caress of that gentle stone finger from moments ago was a fragment of a dream that was slipping from Magnus' grasp. He held it tighter, with fierce intent.

Alec opened his mouth, closed it.

Magnus moved forward, pressed a light touch to Alec's ankle, before making his way up the stairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the ballroom scene, I alternated listening to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ea2WoUtbzuw) and [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ik22FS1cEFg) to get into the mood.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://maroukado.tumblr.com)


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